Presence
by KWillows
Summary: She couldn't explain why, but the lyric from a forgotten song had somehow chosen this moment to dance into her mind. [Brennan, Booth]


**Presence**

"_You're here; there's nothing I fear."_

She couldn't explain why, but the lyric from a forgotten song had somehow chosen this moment to dance into her mind.

Temperance Brennan needed to be alert. She had begged her way into the capture of yet another felon. As usual, things weren't unfolding in the most pleasant of manners.

She was unarmed and ordered to stay as close to Booth as humanly possible. The scientist in her was going full-steam ahead, analyzing everything in sight. The gut she generally tried to ignore told her something was awry. The prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck encouraged her to quicken her pace. She obliged.

Every few feet, Booth would turn around and search for his partner. His eyes flashed with concern when she trailed behind too far for his liking. He whispered her name harshly, urging the woman to return to his side. Although he didn't let on, he wished she had a gun. Then he wouldn't be so distracted; his mind could focus on the scene. As the thought finished, he shook his head subtly. Even if she had the whole United States military surrounding her, he'd still be terrified for her safety.

She had no reason to believe the suspect was out to get her, but she still felt jittery. Booth's lines about her not being a cop rang in her ears, though she knew they had little merit now. He had put more trust in her since those times. In fact, the early days of their relationship were hardly recognizable.

Dr. Brennan walked into a table and scolded herself for letting her mind wander. Booth, who heard the soft curse, was at her side trying to regain his breath. The sound had jumped out at him and he instantly went into protective mode.

He knew at this point that her being there was probably a mistake.

He returned to his sweep of the area, checking more often for the woman behind him.

She sensed his urgency, but chose not to comment. This wasn't the time to argue about his worrying, especially when she was just as worried about him. Booth, the man with the son he saw less than his socially-inept partner, the man who had risked everything more than once for her.

_Titanic_. She had been coerced into seeing it once by Angela. An amazing story of two people willing to throw everything away to be together. At first Temperance had found the whole thing to be pointless; she already knew the facts about the accident.

"Maybe so, Sweetie, but this is the human interest part," Angela had said before pouring a cup of butter onto popcorn.

And Brennan had watched, her eyes never leaving the screen. She had taken a particular interest in the song. Angela described it as one of the classics, a song that every person learned as a teenager and was unlikely ever to forget it.

Again she wondered why the memory was coming up to the surface today. She hadn't thought about the movie in a few years. It seemed entirely illogical for those thoughts to just reappear.

Booth noticed that she had stopped walking, and quickly retreated to face her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine," she replied, willing her feet to go forward.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze before moving onward.

Her skin tingled and the lyric played in her head once more.

They hugged the walls tightly and used soft steps. Most felt the perpetrator was around and no one wanted him made aware too early. Agents pushed doors open and shined their flashlights around big, empty rooms. Booth gave the orders and half made sure they were followed. Much of his energy was spent watching Brennan. He barely had to move to sense her presence. She was so close that he could feel the breath on the back of his neck.

The group reached the end of the last hallway and all conversation died. Ten pairs of eyes focused intently on Booth, waiting for his instructions.

"If he's here, he has to be in that room. We're not taking any chances, so have your weapons ready. Cover each other," he said.

The men nodded in agreement and braced themselves for the entrance. Booth pivoted and came face to face with his partner.

"Just stay back. I'll call you if we need you." When she looked ready to protest he added, "Please, Bones, just do this for me. He's killed enough people; we don't want your name on the list too."

She took a deep breath and stepped away from the pack.

He moved closer until his mouth was at her ear. "Are you sure you're okay?" He leaned back to view her eyes.

"You're here; there's nothing I fear," she said calmly.

Booth grinned for the first time that evening. "That's good to know." He squeezed her hand once more and his smile grew wider as her cheeks were overtaken by a shade of pink.

When it was all over and the sound of bullets flying had left their ears, Booth escorted Brennan to his SUV. He opened her door and smiled as she climbed in.

"That was an interesting night," he said as he pulled onto the main street.

"It certainly was. I'm content knowing he's going to get what he deserves." She stared out the window and observed as the flashing lights faded into the distance.

"You know that line you gave me, did you actually watch the movie, or do you just know the song?"

The blush crept back onto her skin. "I saw it a couple of years ago. I hadn't thought about it until tonight. I don't know why."

"Well it fit perfectly," he stated boldly. And because he knew she was uncomfortable, he chose to spoil what could've been considered a "moment." "You should say things like that more often."

Accepting his grace, she slugged him in the shoulder and chuckled slightly as he began to laugh.

"Aww, that's okay," he said, rubbing the spot on his arm. "My heart will go on."

She smacked him once more for that, but made a mental note to ask Angela about other movies. After all, the anthropologist now had her own reason for making rare pop-culture references. And that reason was Booth.

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_**Please review.**_


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